“Ate, why are you crying?” Ben calls from the passenger seat.
“I wish you two would stop making fun of Zach. Have you ever thought how you’d feel if you lost a leg?”
Dex swings to the left lane and looks back at me. “I have a friend who lost his leg at the Boston Marathon. Sorry.”
“Yeah, sorry,” Ben says. “You’re really into him?”
“Cliff says—” Dex begins.
I hold out my hand. “I don’t want to hear it. Cliff is a bully and a loser.”
“Does he really think you’ll marry him?” Dex asks. “Darn, missed that parking space.”
“I’ll never marry,” I say resolutely. “You two will have to pass on the family genes.”
“You don’t mean that, do you?” Ben says. “Would you marry Zach?”
Goodness. These two are like babies.
I punch the seatback. “How the hell do you think I can marry him if my father killed his mother?”
“Maybe Tatay didn’t kill her,” Dex says.
“Yep, we have listening devices.” Ben flashes me a cheesy grin. “Tatay got us spy toys for Christmas and forgot about them.”
“Wait, wait!” I sit up straighter. “What did you guys find out?”
“Tatay’s covering for someone.”
“Who?” My heart springs into action. “And why?”
Ben shrugs. “It’s all hush-hush, but we heard him say he couldn’t hurt your mother more than he already has.”
“My mother? What does she have to do with this?”
“We don’t know, but we think he’s protecting her,” Dex says.
“That’s ridiculous, she can’t possibly be the murderer.” I slump back into the seat. “She was home. Me and Papa were at the winery. I got blood on my dress, but I don’t remember anything else.”
“You were there?” Both sets of eyes turn on me.
“Watch out!” I point to the windshield. A truck horn blares and Dex slams on the brakes. He makes a sharp left into an underground parking garage.
Ben keeps looking back at me as if I had grown three heads while Dex swings into the first available spot. Avoiding their questioning looks, I jump from the jeep and jog up the stairs to street level. I power walk several blocks, aimlessly, weaving and dodging between pedestrians. Ben and Dex yell from behind. I narrowly miss getting hit by an electric streetcar before stopping.
A gargantuan yellow brick building with multiple archways and a green dome stands in front of me. The old world details and architecture are magnificent enough to take my breath away. I stare transfixed at the row of analog clocks at the entrance above a wide staircase.
“Flinders Street Station, world famous for meeting under the clocks,” Ben says and snaps a picture of me. “You want to talk about what you saw?”
“No.” I keep walking, wishing I was in the mood to enjoy the landmarks. We meander down the street to City Square, flanked by the Melbourne Town Hall and St. Paul’s Cathedral. A black water wall, the one Cliff talked about, stands in the square. Of course I can’t resist putting my hand up to it.
Ben stands next to me and splashes me. “So, if you got blood on your dress, did you see the murder?”
“I didn’t see anything.” I shut my eyes and let the cool water run over my hands, as if washing away the blood.
“You must have seen something,” Dex says. “Wouldn’t it be cool if you solved the mystery?”
“Uh … guys, let’s not talk about it, okay? Papa looked me in the eye and said he killed her. The right thing for him to do is to turn himself in.”
“You’re joking,” Dex says. “They’ll frame him.”
“Yeah, you’re family. You wouldn’t rat him out, would you?” Ben flashes me a sidelong glance.
“Of course I wouldn’t. I’m hungry, where are we eating?”
***
We get back in the jeep, and Dex drives block after city block before parking next to a dumpster. He leads us to a row of brick buildings decorated with graffiti. I’m immediately uncomfortable, thinking about earthquakes. We don’t build with brick in California, and all I can picture is rubble. We descend a set of dark, smelly steps into a hole in the basement, a real dive. A grungy version of the Hungry Caterpillar children’s book character with a cigarette sticking out his mouth is painted on the sign over the entrance.
Dex opens the door to a dank underground club. There’s a bar to the right, pool tables, and a platform for a band. A DJ’s station is near the back. Trance-like music pulses from the large overhead speakers.
Ben points to a sign on the wall. “We can get those kangaroo burgers Cliff talks about.”
“I’m not sure I want one.” I follow Dex toward the bar.
Speak of the devil. Cliff is sitting on a barstool.
“Can we go somewhere else?” I pivot toward the entrance, tugging Dex’s shirt.
“Too late, he saw us,” Dex says.
“So? It’s my last night here, and I don’t want to deal with your father’s foreman.”
An arm clamps my shoulder, and Cliff’s slimy smile slides across his face. “Mi amor.”
I’m not even going to be polite. I twist out of his grasp and position myself between my two bodyguard brothers. “Aren’t you going to tell him to leave your Ate alone?” I nudge Dex’s foot with my toe.
“But it’s only Cliff,” Dex says. “He’s harmless.”
“All talk and no action,” Ben agrees.
My face warms, and I hope they don’t see it reddening. They hadn’t seen him in the shower. He was much more than talk, although thankfully he’s been respectful ever since. We take seats at the bar, and Cliff wisely sits on the other side of Dex.
Cans of spray paint are left on a ledge leading to the stairway. A customer is tagging graffiti on walls filled with vivid sceneries of beaches, colorful birds, and trees that flow seamlessly, one to the next.
The boys order kangaroo burgers, potato wedges, and pitchers of beer. I ask for a tomato and broccoli salad with green goddess dressing, but Cliff tells the waitress to bring me a strip of kangaroo on a skewer.
“You have to try it. It’s healthier than beef,” he says as he takes a picture of me with his phone.
I feel like a fugitive already. If the authorities place Vera Custodio here, close to the Ping brothers, wouldn’t they suspect my father to be related to them?
The food arrives, and Cliff lifts his phone again, but I block it. “Enough pictures.” I turn to Ben. “Make sure you don’t post any photos of me. They might trace me back to you guys.”
He darts a secret agent furtive look around and whispers, “Got it. The memory card will self-destruct in fifty seconds.”
I’m chewing on the rangy kangaroo when Zach walks down the stairs from street level. He’s wearing a tight white cotton shirt with the two top buttons loose, and his jeans completely cover his artificial leg. He fist bumps the bouncers and swaggers toward the pool table, walking naturally in a pair of fluorescent sneakers with only a slight roll on the left.
I duck behind Dex, but needlessly. Zach never glances my way as he greets his mates and grabs a pool stick. They start another game, and Zach leans over to take the break shot, pointing his tight, sexy bum my direction.
“Stop drooling,” Ben elbows me.
“How did he know I’d be here?” I chase the dry meat with a draft of beer. The aftertaste is strong and malty.
“Maybe he tracked his mobile,” Dex says. “I thought you turned it off.”
“Oh!” I fish the cell phone from my purse. “I turned it on in the car. Can we leave now?”
“Leave?” Ben exclaims. “Not until after the dance contest.”
Cliff’s twirling a potato wedge in ketchup and smirking as if highly amused. He quirks his eyebrow at me. “Aren’t you going to talk to him?”
“No, why don’t you?” For all you know, you might be his brother, idiot.
“Not interested that way.”
Just then,
the DJ swings into his booth and does his spiel. Cliff takes my hand. “I get the first dance.”
“No, Zach’s here. Really, I don’t want him to see me.”
“I don’t understand.” He puts on an innocent look. “Don’t you want to let him know you’ve moved on?”
“I need to use the ladies’ room.” I hop off the barstool and wind my way to the back of the bar. One by one, I delete the text messages sent or received by me on Zach’s phone, including the last one that says “I love you” in Tagalog.
The bathroom is hot and stuffy with a stench of stale beer, urine and vomit. Not the place to spend the evening. I make my way out past a group of college girls, some in bikini tops, who eye me suspiciously. Most likely, my lack of facial piercings and tattoos marks me as a tourist.
The electro music is blasting, and people are jumping up and down with their hands in the air.
When I make my way to the bar stools we were occupying, all three men are missing. Everywhere I turn, there are raised armpits and sweaty bodies. The DJ announces the contestants and cranks up the pulsing electronic music. I thread through the crowd by following a cocktail waitress to the front of the stage.
Sure enough, Ben and Dex are lined up, but I don’t see Cliff anywhere. I’m surprised he hasn’t pounced on me yet. Thankfully, my lack of height gives me plenty of cover. I’m wearing running shoes and sensible clothing, but a few men still surround me, bumping and jumping. I soon realize no one is dancing with anyone else. They’re all in clumps, sort of to themselves, shaking their arms or shouting at the stage.
Ben is really jamming. His arms are rotating like gears, his head bobbing at impossible angles. I have no clue what hand signals he’s doing, but he resembles a flag man on a carrier at warp speed. The crowd’s weaving and bouncing to the jackhammer beat. Beer splashes over my blouse and drips onto my shoes.
“Sorry, miss. You from around here?” A large man with a nose ring blocks my view of the stage.
“I’m with them!” I shout and point at the stage where my brothers are.
He leers and stares at my wet shirt, hovering over me like a hummingbird on nectar. Where’s Cliff when you need him?
I sortie to the ladies’ room again, but this time there’s a line. The pool tables have been pushed to the side and people are thronging around the bar. Dex is on stage, flipping through his routine. A waitress slides through the crowd.
“How much longer is the contest?” I yell to be heard over the music.
“All night! Woo! Go up there, we need some girl power.” She winks and disappears into the kitchen.
All night. The air is getting rank, and people’s deodorants aren’t working overtime. A headache squeezes my eyes as the music sends nails through my brain. I have to step out for fresh air, but a group of men eye me near the exit.
A cheer roars from the crowd. “Zach, Zach, Zach!”
Open-mouthed, I crane my neck toward the stage. It’s Zach, and he’s spinning faster than a top. His feet glide like they’re on sliders. An elbow slaps the side of my head, and someone’s hair flings in my face. Screams and howls pierce through the group of bikini-clad girls. I can’t believe it. They’re throwing thongs and panties at him.
Zach’s head and shoulders rotate evasively like he did in laser tag, and he’s spinning roundhouse kicks and sweeping the floor with his left leg, then doing a moonwalk Egyptian style. His long arms windmill two directions, and when he launches into a tight cartwheel followed by hip rolls, the girls shriek louder and the guys throw beer on each other.
Zach’s feet turn in and out and in and out as his arms and head appear disjointed. He lifts his left leg and unzips the lower part of his detachable pant leg, all while bobbing to the beat. The noise level is deafening when he exposes his carbon fiber rod and tosses the partial pant leg into the crowd.
“Zach, Zach, Zach!” All around me, people are chanting and screaming. I’m soaked, more from beer than sweat. Disoriented and dizzy, I slip on the wet floor. The crowd moves over me as if I weren’t there. I crawl between a forest of legs. Someone kicks the side of my head, and another knee lands on my back. I’m swimming and grabbing at pant legs and belt loops. But the people are so oblivious, they shake me loose while hopping like bunnies on steroids.
A rough grip pulls me to my feet, and my face bounces against a sweat-drenched chest splashed in beer and a sporty cologne. The man steadies me as I wipe the hair from my face without looking up. “Uhm … thanks.”
“Vera,” Zach says. “You okay?”
That’s when I notice the flashes. We’re being mobbed by cell phone cameras. I catch a glimpse of his electrifying eyes, but they focus across my shoulder. The signature Zach Attack grin is balanced evenly on his rugged face, and he waves to the crowd. “Let’s rock the house!”
I fumble for my purse to give him the phone, but he’s already heading past me.
“Good seeing you, take care of yourself,” he says as he walks right into the arms of a tall, leggy redhead.
I almost collapse, but my two brothers prop me and cart me up a flight of stairs lined with graffiti.
“Forget about him,” Ben says and shakes his fist toward the bar. “Let’s go home.”
“Where did Cliff go?” Dex says.
“No clue,” Ben replies, “Maybe he’s still throwing up in the loo. He was pretty pissed, drunk, I mean.”
“So, did you guys win?” I ask, even though I suspect Zach’s the champ from the reaction of the crowd.
“Hey, it was good fun,” Ben says. “You okay?”
We ascend the steps to street level. The air is cooler than during the day. I’m still dizzy and reeling from Zach’s dismissal. But it’s what I deserve. Didn’t take him long to get over me.
I roll his phone from my purse and double check that I’ve deleted the last stupid message. My eyes are surprisingly dry, but my stomach feels like lead. I’ll never shed another tear for him or any other man.
We turn the corner to the parking spot, and I spy Zach walking hand in hand with the redhead. She’s leaning into him like she can barely walk.
My jaw tightens, and I quicken my pace. How dare he dismiss me like last semester’s term paper. How can he act like we’re strangers and let that floozy hang all over him?
“Where are you going?” Ben asks.
“I’m going to kick him in the balls.”
Chapter 22
Two pairs of hands restrain me. We’re in the middle of downtown Melbourne, watching Zach open the door of a black Porsche SUV. He leans over with his hand on the small of the woman’s back and helps her in.
“Forget about him, you’re leaving tomorrow.” Ben’s voice is tight.
Dex swivels me toward the jeep. “Say the word, Ate, and we’ll rearrange his face.”
“No, please don’t.” I slump into the back seat. It is what I wanted. No Zach in my life. No strings. Empty. “But you know where he lives, right? At the far end of the Ping estate where the gatehouse used to be.”
“Yeah, that was the plot of land Tatay let his father keep where they sell seasonal fruits.” Dex guns the engine. “You want us to burn it?”
“No, take me there. I want to talk to him.”
“He might not be headed there,” Ben says.
“Then I’ll wait. All night if I have to.”
For once, the twins are quiet. No radio, no jokes, no chit-chat.
We wind our way out of the city and down rolling country roads. My gut churns, and adrenaline floods my veins. There’s no way I can shut my eyes and relax. I stare out the darkened window. Fifteen minutes. That’s all I need to tell him what he needs to know.
We bump along and make the turn toward the vineyard. The third quarter moon peeks just above the hills, illuminating acres of grapevines. Ben lifts the chain to the driveway, and the jeep travels a few hundred yards to the gatehouse. Zach’s Porsche is ticking in the carport, still hot, so he’s just arrived.
“What if the chick’s there?
” Dex asks. “You sure you want to go in?”
“I’m not afraid of her.” I jump out of the jeep, ready to do battle.
“Take this knife.” He unstraps a sheathed knife from his belt.
My hands shake. “Oh, I don’t know. I’m not going to kill him or anything.”
“Sure about that, Ate?” Ben laughs. “How about slicing his jewels off?”
“Take it,” Dex orders. “You’ll scare the implants right out of her boobs.”
They both laugh while I examine the knife in the light of the moon. It has a wicked curve to the sharp point and a small, serrated section near the tang. The brownish horn handle is inlaid with white bone.
Dex nudges me toward the door. “We’ll wait out here for you.”
“Don’t take too long,” Ben says.
“Or if you get lucky, take as long as you want.” Dex laughs.
They get in the jeep and park it outside the chain posts so we can make a quick getaway. Sweating on my forehead, I hook the sheath on my waistband and clutch the knife in my right hand.
The door is unlocked. I barge in and trip over something, but catch myself on the sofa. Zach’s prosthetic leg is lying in the middle of the living room. The dim moonlight shines on a trail of clothes leading to the bedroom.
My heart pounds so loudly, I’m sure they can hear me. Slowly, I tiptoe toward the closed door and hear the bed squeaking. A red tide explodes in my chest, and I shove the door so hard it bounces against the wall. The noise stops, and the figures freeze. Zach rolls off the bed onto the floor while the woman wraps herself in the sheets. The stench of alcohol and sweat mugs me in the stuffy room.
“Get out!” I point the knife at the female.
She slides off the bed and squeaks, “No worries, I’m outta here.”
Knowing Vera (Romantic Suspense, Family Drama) (Chance for Love) Page 16